


better the devil you know

by shepherd



Series: by the sweat of your brow (it can become your city) [1]
Category: BioShock, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bioshock AU, Bottom Steve, Bottom Steve Rogers, F/F, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Unrequited Love, Unsafe Sex, a bit political, may be a little confusing but it'll all make sense, steve is a fish out of water
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:26:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2259366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shepherd/pseuds/shepherd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Fury brought up the existence of Rapture, Steve almost laughed himself sick. He didn’t laugh when he, with thin lips and a brittle expression showed him the documents and told him the story of their mutual friend Howard Stark and the brilliant but cruel Andrew Ryan. </p>
<p>Or, where Steve Rogers visits Rapture on political business, and is sucked into their world for good when he meets the son of an old friend.</p>
<p>A Bioshock AU. No knowledge of Bioshock necessary- all will be explained.</p>
            </blockquote>





	better the devil you know

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. This was an excuse to write Steve and Tony smut based in Rapture.
> 
> It got out of hand, can you tell?
> 
> Might be part of a series, depending on reception.
> 
> Thanks to Keri (queerthomas on tumblr) for beta'ing and putting up with whining.

The first time Fury brought up the existence of Rapture, Steve almost laughed himself sick. He thought the idea was nothing short of ridiculous, and he wasn’t afraid to tell him that. It was something from a book, a child’s twisted fantasy, a pipe dream or a legend told by someone too deep in their cups to be worth listening to.

He didn’t laugh when Fury, with thin lips and a brittle expression showed him the documents and told him the story of their mutual friend Howard Stark and the brilliant but cruel Andrew Ryan.

-

They are four hundred and thirty three kilometers west of Reykjavik, he heard the sailor shout to his captain, and Steve could think of a thousand other places he would rather be. Drinking and laughing and playing cards with his friends the Commandos, out dancing with Peggy, even making a fool of himself as the great ‘Captain America’ in front of what precious few soldiers dragged themselves home from broken, war torn Europe. Anywhere, away from the chill that was seeping into his bones and the haunting memories that were creeping into the forefront of his mind.

_I gotta put her in the water._

The sea was brutal that night, furious and unforgiving waves crashing against the battered ship. Steve could taste the sea salt on his tongue, his dry, chapped lips, and the violent winds that made his cheeks bright pink and splattered him with thankfully only light rain. It was the only thing right now that he had to be grateful for, and yet it stung his eyes so badly he could barely see the lighthouse that stood tall and proud and yet unassuming on sharp rocks.

It was cold, so very cold, and Steve lost himself in a waking dream of heat, safe and familiar warmth. He dreamt of being curled in front of a fire, Peggy’s shape pressed up against his side, her mouth that tasted like scotch. He tried his hardest not to think of the ship, the crushing water and the immobilizing ice that once kept him prisoner.

He was suddenly awfully aware of the way his hands trembled, and was grateful for the thick leather gloves Coulson had pressed into his hands pointedly before the ship had set off. He took a deep breath, ignoring just how unsteady it was, and the cold invaded his lungs, its reach cold with icy tendrils curling around his insides and squeezing.

He feared he might be violently ill.

He was still suppressing the urge to vomit by the time the Captain ordered the ship’s engine to be cut, and the rumbling under his feet died. The lighthouse was much closer now, and Steve could see the protruding, worryingly rickety looking dock that lead to stone stairs.

Agent Maria Hill was by his side in a second, a formidable presence. Her expression was tight, and her coat hood was pulled firmly over her head, her eyes cast in deep shadow. She said nothing, a woman of few words and they only watched as the sailors began to hustle across the deck while calling out commands. Occasionally, the lighthouse beam swept across the boat, and in the sudden but short light he could see the way her lips were pressed tightly together and the way her eyebrows were narrowed.

After several long moments of silence, an unfamiliar sailor approached. His professional uniform was slick with water. “We’re ready for you,” He told them. “We’ll take you to the lighthouse, and we’ll be going back to land immediately after. It would be best not to linger.” He turned on his heel, and they followed him to the side of his ship. Sailors scurried to get out of their way, giving the two of them a wide berth and sideways glances, and Steve knew they had been the subject of much gossip- Captain America and a silent unfamiliar woman, being dropped off without luggage at an abandoned lighthouse in the North Atlantic. To them, it made little sense. Even knowing the things Steve did, it made even less to him.

They reached the side, and they both peered over, doing their best to ignore the seaspray. A life boat bobbed precariously about in the wild waters, and Agent Hill turned to him, her expression still untouched. “Are you ready, Captain?” She asked, sounding wholly unconcerned about whatever answer he gave.

Captain America offered her a smile that Steve Rogers prayed was confident and said, “I’m ready.”

-

The wooden planks of the docks were soft and slowly rotting, the stone of the steps were slick with spray and seaweed, but inside the lighthouse was warm, almost cozy. It made Steve suddenly feel uncomfortable in all his heavy layers, and the contrast of the freezing cold to the toasty heat was a slap to the face. Despite it’s comforts, however, the lighthouse was pitch black like he was stepping inside a cave. He lingered a little inside the door, eyeing the darkness with concern.

Maria followed him inside, already stripping herself of her gloves, and shrugged out of her coat. He followed her example with only a moments hesitation. They stood in the darkness only a moment longer; Steve had a moment to listen to a sudden hum of electricity, and the world bloomed with bright light. He winced only a little, watching as the entire room was illuminated, revealing plain stone walls and stairs on either side of the room that headed downwards, deeper within. The door also swung shut behind them seemingly of it’s own accord, cutting out the shrieking wind and closing with a heavy sound. It hardly comforted him.

Steve cleared his throat in the sudden silence, and gazed around the room, looking to the ceiling. From the high above, a large bronze bust of a scowling man glowered down at them, and a rich vermillion banner hung just beneath him, with printed gold letters boldly declaring their words, almost a creed.

“No gods or kings,” Steve murmured, gazing up into the eyes of the gentleman. “Only man.” His mother would have been howling at the notion, he thought with a wry smile, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes or his heart. He knew from the photos that Fury had shown him that this was Andrew Ryan, and Steve already didn’t like what he saw.

Hill said nothing, and made directly for the flight of stairs to her right, with her coat folded neatly over her arm. He followed with one last look into Ryan’s unfriendly eyes and no further comment, knowing it wouldn’t be welcomed.

Even in the light and the warmth he still didn’t feel the slightest bit safe, and he remained on his guard all the while. He followed his companion down two flights of stairs, lights illuminating as they walked, and he hated the way his skin crawled. Even though he knew it wasn’t possible, he felt like he were being watched, and it didn’t sit right with him. And every step he took was bringing him that much closer to something that shouldn’t have existed, something he didn’t want to see.

In the centre of the next room, he could see what appeared to be a submarine awaiting them, and a soft light and even softer music emitting from it’s door which had been opened widely, welcoming them. Hill made a beeline for it, all business, and Steve’s mouth ran uncomfortably dry.

Once inside she threw her coat across one of the soft plush seats, and removed her jacket, leaving her in her last layer. She didn’t bother to sit, instead electing to stand, and gave him an expectant look as he lingered outside. “We’ve got a job to do.” She reminded him. She gestured him inside, allowing no argument, and he let his own coat join hers as she reached back for a lever in the back of the small submarine. Gentle and slow jazz played from a service radio on the wall, and he tried to think soothing thoughts- an evening only a few days ago before Steve had left for Iceland, swaying with Peggy in time to the music in the privacy of her home. It didn’t help much.

She pulled the lever firmly, and the door swung shut automatically. It descended immediately, and Steve let out a long breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. From beside him, Hill huffed out what could have been a laugh.

“You look like you’re sucking on a lemon.” She drawled, her expression almost a smirk. From outside, bubbles washed over the glass door, and signs regularly appeared as they sunk to the lowest depths of the ocean. Ten fathoms, one said, eighteen on another. “It’s almost like you don’t want to be here.”

He shot her an unfriendly glance, but had no time to speak. The music died in a burst of static, ripping away what very little comfort Steve had, and the signs from outside disappeared from view as a small screen appeared. A video steadily flickered into existence, and Steve eyed it warily. An advert briefly played, for some products he didn’t recognize named ‘plasmids’, before an image of a lounging Ryan appeared, the picture of sophistication and intelligence. The way he held himself reminded Steve painfully of Howard, and his heart hurt at the thought.

_“I am Andrew Ryan,”_ the video announced, _“and I’m here to ask you a question.”_ Hill hummed softly, standing to attention. _“Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? ‘No,’ said the man in Washington, ‘it belongs to the poor.’ ‘No,’ said the man in the Vatican, ‘it belongs to God.’ ‘No,’ says the man in Moscow, ‘it belongs to everyone.’”_ Political caricatures appeared after every mentioned ideology, a swooping eagle, a hand reaching from the sky, and the hammer and sickle. Steve watched silently, with a bad taste growing in his mouth. Ryan continued, _“I rejected these answers; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible.”_ The screen slipped away, revealing nothing but the rocks of the sea floor.

The taste grew increasingly bitter, and then the city abruptly came into sight.

_“I chose Rapture.”_

Hill sucked in a small breath and Steve could feel her tension, but she tried to play it off as if nothing was wrong. In the same vein, he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, and the familiar feeling of sickness returned to him, embracing him like an old friend. He was hit with the awful feeling of reality, of a truth so unbelievable it defied his imagination. It occurred to him that despite everything that Fury had said, everything he had shown him, he had still unconsciously thought it was simply the world’s most dedicated and detailed practical joke and they would all laugh themselves silly at Steve’s expense when they reemerged and give him his real assignment. But it was there now, right before his eyes, and he couldn’t deny it’s existence.

The lights of Ryan’s city were bright, almost painfully so. He silently wondered just how everything had worked, exactly how the hell Ryan had built an entire goddamn city under the sea, but he supposed it didn’t matter at the moment. He just stared at it all, taking in the unbelievable sight of tall buildings advertising businesses and performances amongst schools of fish and great bronze statues. Ryan droned on all the while, using terms such as ‘ _petty morality’_ and _‘the great and the small’_. His voice held a note of pride, a sense of wonder at his creation.

Steve sat down to the side. He thought he might need to. His mind boggled at the thought that the man was so alienated from the rest of society, that he had simply decided to create his own- and Howard Stark had helped him.

Hill side eyed him from where she still stood, but even her eyes quickly returned to the city of Rapture. Her expression held nothing, but she still stood firmly, as if bracing herself against the knowledge that such a place existed. He didn’t blame her in the slightest.

_“And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well.”_

Steve ran a hand through his hair, sighing softly. He didn’t even want to look at the city anymore, and now he was entering it with the intention to stay for only God knew how long. Ryan had fallen quiet at long last, and the new sudden silence was stifling. Steve could think of another thousand places he would rather be than this madman’s playground.

He lost track of time, the bewilderment making him lose all sense of security and logic. He didn’t know how long it was before the submarine began to slow and then stop, and he could feel it instead begin to ascend. Silence reigned until it jolted to a sudden stop, and the door swung open. Water cascaded down the door, falling back in the gap between submarine and dock with a crash. He got to his feet, grabbing both coats, and exited the submarine with Hill close at his heels.

He took his first step into the city with a pretense of relaxation, pretending there wasn’t a deep shiver creeping up his spine like he was invading on forbidden ground. He entered in the centre of an open hall, wide and brightly lit, and their ride appeared to be the only one docked in the water. More music played over tannoys, and at the far end of the room he could see out into the ocean, advertisements still visible. He looked up, and the ceiling high above was made of glass. He dimly wondered what would happen if the ceiling were to crack.

A few people were milling around the room, men and women alike, and he could hear their vague, distant chatter. None of them looked to him and he couldn’t hear what they were saying, and he found himself grateful for it. He could barely even imagine what the sort of people who lived in such a bizarre city would speak of in everyday conversation.

A man stood at the opposite end of the hall, his hands clasped together and his face splitting into a unnervingly wide grin. As they approached, he stepped forward and opened his arms wide in greeting. “Mr Rogers and Miss Hill, I presume.” He called out, and Steve forced himself to smile. “Welcome to Bathysphere station,” The man said with a smile, “and welcome to Rapture.”

“Thank you,” Hill spoke up at his side, and he glanced over to see that her once blank expression was suddenly alive with excitement, and her award winning smile rivaled his. He found it to be like moulded plastic, but the man from Rapture seemed sold. “We’re incredibly grateful to be here. I had heard stories of Rapture’s beauty from within our circle, but it is far greater than told.”

That seemed to please him; he threw back his head and laughed. It wasn’t jolly or even particularly amused, seemingly more for show than anything else. “I’m glad to hear that, Miss Hill.” He looked between her and Steve, his smile still overwhelmingly large. “I am Nathan Sadler, and I have been sent here to make sure you two can navigate the city. It is a big city, a splendid design, but newcomers can easily find themselves lost.” He eyed the heavy coats bundled in Steve arms with what almost appeared to be distaste. “You wont be needing those.”

Maria turned that smile on him, and it was almost as blinding as the sweeping lighthouse beam. “Darling,” She said, “Perhaps you should leave them inside the bathysphere. They’ll be picked up eventually, and it’s not like we’ll be leaving here anytime soon.”

He was all too aware, and he wasn’t glad of the reminder. Steve swallowed his distaste and struggled to keep his smile fresh. Even after years of practise, it was still a job he despised. “Of course.”

After he had left them hung over the chairs, distantly wondering who would collect them, he returned to Hill and Sadler’s side. Immediately, she linked her arm in his, leaning into him a little with her still blinding smile. “Take us away,” She told Sadler. “I want to see more of this marvelous city.”

He took them out of the station, sweeping along the rich red carpet draped over the cold stone floor. As they passed the strangers, their new companion in the lead, conversation around them gradually began to die. Several turned to stare, their gazes appraising. A few of them did not deign to lower themselves by even giving them a single glance, but one gentleman glowered at the two, turning up his nose at them. Those who stared watched them go until they disappeared from sight- Steve could feel the stares blazing on his back, measuring his worth, and he was glad to be rid of them. They followed Sadler up a flight of stairs and into a small hall, devoid of people. There were signs and adverts all over the walls, about plasmids or shows or more ‘wise words’ from their great leader Ryan, and to Steve, they may as well have been written in another language.

_Welcome to Rapture_ , one of the signs above a door declared, and Steve didn’t feel welcome at all.

-

Steve stared out of the glass, his arms crossed tightly across his chest, his mind still whirling. He stood only a few inches from the glass, and he could see his vague reflection in it, frowning back at him. Beyond that, he could see the seemingly neverending stretch of the seafloor, the occasional fish darting just beyond his reach, crabs scurrying across the sand. He could see the walkways and tunnels connecting each building, people drifting along them like it was no big deal, as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

He wondered what the others would think of this new world he found himself in- what Peggy would say, how she would stare and how her mouth would twist and thin, and just what Bucky would have done if he had lived to see this day. Steve reached out a hand, pressing it against the glass and finding it cool against his heated skin. The sight and feeling was nothing short of incredible, and terrifying. He took his hand away.

He could see Hill’s own reflection from where she was perched on the bed, toeing off her shoes and tucking them out of sight. She had recovered much faster than he had, the professional that she was, and now barely seemed affected at all. They had remained in silence ever since Sadler had shown them their room almost an hour ago, and she clearly was in no hurry for a chat. But with the sheer insanity of the situation Steve found himself in, he simply couldn’t keep quiet.

“I can’t believe this place exists.” Steve started, in a mix of wonder and shock. He heard Hill huff out a unenthused laugh.

“You’re a super soldier created by a serum who survived five years frozen in ice and you fought an insane Nazi agent with an exposed skull,” He could see her shaking her head at him, and she scooted back on the bed to lean her back on the pillows. “And you’re surprised that a rich asshole owns a city beneath the water.”

“I just don’t see how such a city can exist.”

“Well, why don’t you go find Ryan himself and ask? Or Howard Stark. Apparently, you used to be the best of friends.”

He pursed his lips. “There’s a lot of people I used to be friends with.” He turned his back on the ocean, and stepped across the floor, the carpet thick beneath his bare feet. The rooms they were given were beautiful with rich colours and minimal and sleek furniture, and they were in the most gorgeous bedroom he had ever seen. It was completely different from the small, awkward tents he spent his time in during the war, and the crappy hotels he lived out of while on tour as Captain. One entire wall was glass that exposed the outside and the bed was placed against the opposite, a wide queen that could probably comfortably fit each of the Commandos with no trouble at all. The sheets were silk and the pillows were thick and fluffy, and Hill looked comfortable amongst them. “Only the best for our special guests,” Sadler had said, allegedly quoting Ryan himself. Considering the way Stark and Fury had left things between them and the hardly glowing view Ryan had of the rest of the world, he didn’t think that was quite true. He paced the room slowly, deep in thought. “I don’t think Howard would even want to see me after everything.”

“I don’t particularly care for your friendships,” She shrugged dismissively, as brutally honest as ever. Sometimes he liked that about her- she was much more honest than Fury or even Coulson had ever been- but not this evening. “But I really hope that’s not the case for Europe. We need money from all these rich assholes, and Stark is one of the richest men here. Having him as one of your allies will help us tremendously.”

“So I’ve come to see an old friend I haven’t seen in years, to suck money from him. Wonderful.” His voice was as dry as bone left in the Mojave.

She waved his concerns away. “I imagine he’s used to it, from his wife and business partners. I think the only person who doesn’t want him for his money is his son, and that’s only because he’s an inventor in his own right. A clever boy, apparently.”

“I never met his son.” He had heard the stories and the scandals though, that he was worse than his father. Wild parties, heartbroken boys and girls alike back on the surface. He wondered if the citizens of Rapture were suffering the same fate, or if he had to be more discreet under Ryan’s watchful and judgemental gaze. He hoped that he would have time to prepare for their no doubt unavoidable meeting, both father and son.

“Me neither. And I’m not particularly looking forward to him, if I’m honest.” She leant her head back, closing her eyes. “Nor am I looking forward to Ryan. I know how to play the sorts of people who live here, but Fury warned me about him. He’s sharp, that one. Not the kind of man either of us want to mess with.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck roughly and sighed heavily, plopping himself down on the edge of the bed. It sank under his weight, and even after all this time, he was still getting used to his mass. “This is a mess.”

She surveyed him, almost critically. “Not really. The relationships are messed up, and there’s been conflict, but we have a simple job. Get support. Money. That’s it.”

“I don’t want to just think in terms of how much money we’re getting.” He said, honestly. He laced his fingers together, hunching over a little. He could feel a headache come alive in his temples, a slight throbbing that was due to become worse. “I don’t want mine and Howard’s relationship to end this way. I’ve been out of the loop for too long, and I need to fix everything.”

Hill snorted, an ungraceful sound. “Howard was angry enough to leave for Rapture and cut off all contact from the surface. I don’t think this can be fixed.”

_I have to believe it can,_ he almost said, but decided against it. _I have to._ He felt old despite his youth and tired, all the way down to his aching bones. Sometimes, he thought he could still feel the ice encasing him, immobilizing him. Sometimes, he woke with a start, shivering and numb and when the winter descended upon New York most days he was unable to venture outside without trembling for an hour and forcing himself to face his fear.

_I need to fix it, I need to- to keep myself sane._

His attention was caught by a sudden rattling from the corner of the room, and the sound of light impact. He recognised it faintly as something scraping across metal. Steve turned in it’s direction, towards the door, and stared at the box which had been bolted to the wall next to it. It had tubes coming out of it that disappeared into the ceiling, and he had no idea what the hell it was. He had previously assumed it was some kind of generator.

“It was the pneumo tube.” Hill informed him, making no effort of her own to get up or even glance at it. She inspected her nails instead. “Rapture’s delivery system. We have mail.”

“I know what pneumo systems are. I just didn’t recognise it.” He replied sharply, a little irritated. He crossed the room without another word and delved inside the box, his fingers brushing a thin wisp of paper. Pulling it out, he found it was a small white sheet and a map, the former with neatly printed words and ornate decorations.

_Andrew Ryan requests the honour of the presence of Steven Grant Rogers and Maria Hill at the Kashmir establishment at 7 o'clock tonight,_ he read, with a stomach that sank like a block of concrete to the ocean floor. He highly doubted it was an honour, and he could imagine the pained expression on Ryan’s face as he ordered the invitation to be sent- Steve knew it would have been too much for him Ryan to pen it himself. Ignoring the rest of the message, he spared a glance at the map. There was no way in hell it covered the entirety of Rapture- he cast his mind back to the first glance of the city, recalling how the buildings stretched back as far as he could see- but directions were provided for them, a neat scrawl on the map. Their rooms and Kashmir, noted as a restaurant with multiple floors, were clearly marked.

Steve’s mouth twisted to one side, dry and humourless, and he turned back to Hill. “Looks like we’re getting started tonight.” He passed on the contents of the message, and Hill’s expression grew to mimic his. “It’s a little sudden, though, don’t you think?”

“It’s almost like Ryan doesn’t want us to settle in and feel comfortable here.” She rolled her eyes, but then her expression was firmly set. “Looks like we’re going to have to get some evening wear from Sadler.” She called across the room to him, and both of them inwardly cursed at the thought.

There was going to be a long evening ahead of them, and Steve prayed he wouldn’t run in to either Stark men or Ryan himself.

-

“You’re going to have to relax,” Hill hissed to Steve as they dithered in the middle of one of Rapture’s walkways, her hands tugging at his collar in an attempt to neaten the disaster he had caused.

“I am relaxed.” He shot back, leaning back in an attempt to escape her. But there was no escape- with a curse, she advanced and practically crowded him against the glass. Her nails, painted a bold red for the occasion, caught against the tender skin of his throat. Yanking his tie free, she corrected his mistakes with precision and speed. He marveled. He had never quite figured how to master the simplest of styles- his mother or Bucky, both quick and nimble fingered always made him look presentable.

“Bullshit.” Her hands dropped to the ends of his jacket suit and pulled at them, fixing what little creases had appeared in the journey from their room to Kashmir. He hadn’t even noticed them, but it was his fate to spend the evening with judgemental socialites, and he supposed they would see all. Steve would have happily bet that he didn’t own a suit fancy enough for them,and he found himself grateful that Rapture had agreed to provide them with everything they needed.

Steve wondered when the kindness would run dry.

“I don’t know how the hell you sold war bonds with an expression like that.” She grumbled, finally pulling away. She cast an appraising eye along him. “They must have been blind.”

They fell quiet as another couple passed them in the walkway, dressed to the nines. A young child grasped his fathers hand loosely, nattering away to him, something about all the different types of fish in the ocean. It made Steve smile, but the father appeared to not be listening, and none of the family spared him a glance.

When they passed, Hill served him with a serious look. “This is the beginning,” she told him. “Tonight is the start of our little act, and the better we do, the quicker we can leave.” She lowered her voice a little, conspiratorially, and shot a glance at the door which held their fate. “We need money and support from people who are at loathe to give it, so for God’s sake, smile.”

Steve plastered on the widest grin he could muster that he prayed didn’t look like moulded plastic, that looked genuine and confident. It seemed to make Hill content, if not exactly happy, and she took a moment to collect herself before grabbing at him again. “Remember the cover,” She said, lowly. “We met during one of your shows not long after you woke, and we’ve been together and happy ever since. I know it’s bullshit, but it’s necessary. And for God’s sake, call me Maria. Come on.” Steve let her shape him the way she desired, and with begrudgingly linked arms and twin deep breaths, the two surfacers entered Kashmir.

The place was packed; there were a great deal more people there than Steve- and judging by the look on her face, more people than Hill- had also anticipated. The restaurant was wide and the middle was swept clear of tables and chairs, and as the map had promised, there were stairs on either end that led to extra floors. To one side, a long bar was quickly and efficiently serving colorful and sweet smelling drinks to patrons, while another held comfortable looking seats- all already claimed by eager, gossiping socialites. Yet another wall was entirely glass- they were clearly obsessed with seeing out into the ocean, seeing what their twisted form of humanity could achieve- and many people were staring outside, soft smiles on their faces. Steve noted that most of the people in attendance were beaming just as wide as he was, and a great many of them seemed just as genuine as him.

But some had their faces shielded from view, mostly with masks that were designed to look like animals. Each was different, and looked meticulously crafted- scarlet foxes, golden rabbits, silver mice. Steve wondered if perhaps they had missed a memo, and if the party was in fact a masquerade, but sweeping his gaze around the room he saw that lots of people neither wore or carried masks. _A sign of status, perhaps,_ he wondered, and thought nothing more of it.

Some unmasked attendants chatted around the brimming room with low voices, while some swayed or swung on a makeshift dance floor in the direct centre of the room, and others leant against walls and simply watched, or waited to be snatched up by a potential dancing partner Everyone seemed to be busy or deep in thought, and Steve and Maria’s quiet entrance was paid no mind.

Her hand curled around his covered bicep, a method of control that could easily be taken as a display of affection. Hill had dolled herself up for the occasion out of plain necessity, and she cleaned up nice. Steve had always known that she was a pretty dame, despite her severity and lack of genuine smiles, and with a little bit of makeup and a boldly coloured but modest dress that was as practical as one could be, she almost rivalled Peggy in Steve’s eyes. Almost. In turn, Steve towed above most others in the room and moved with far less grace. He wasn’t tripping over his own feet, like he would have once upon a time, but he felt like a fool in a Rapture suit that clung to him, tight around the shoulders and the waist, neatly pressed and so expensive it had made him a little dizzy when Sadler had pressed it into his hands and told him just how much it was worth. He kept his head down low, forcing his smile to shine, and hated every second that passed.

In the middle of a crowded room with smiling people and an alleged ally on his arm, he had never felt so isolated in his life. The room span on around him, and no one looked his way.

Steve took in a moment to take in the sights around him while he still went unnoticed; he didn't think he'd be a stranger in the crowd for long. An older man with more silver than brown in his hair guffawed at some joke that went unheard over the music, a much younger and very handsome man clinging to his arm like a limpet. Another seemed to be steadily drinking himself to death in the corner behind a brilliant mask, a slight sway to his stance. One couple were embracing in the darkness of a corner, their bodies shamelessly pressed tight. There was a constant traffic of people between floors, the slightly drunken guests stumbling but laughing it off like it was nothing.

Hill herself was zeroing in on those guests, and her expression was mean. "I know them," She spoke quietly, at a volume only Steve could hear. He followed her gaze, and found her staring at two older women both wearing matching masks. "Those are the Haygreen sisters. A young family that got rich in the automotive business. That one there," She gestured to the oldest one in a wrapped dark green dress that brushed against the floor with every step she took. "Not as sharp as her sister. If I can get her alone, I might be able to get something out of her."

"Are we really resorting to trickery?"

Hill nudged his ribs viciously, not bothering to make it look playful. Not one person was looking. "If you can get someone to part with their cash without trickery, I'll tell Fury you're the best agent we've ever had." Roughly the same probability of there being a floating city up in the clouds, Steve thought with a twist of his lips. He felt her pull away from him, sliding her arm out from under his and he let it happen gladly. "I'm on to these two," She said, flashing him a winning smile- just in case. She even raised up onto her tiptoes out of necessity to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, and he struggled not to pull a face. He knew Bucky would have been rolling on the floor, clutching his sides and dying with laughter if he were here. He could only have imagined how he would have reacted to Private Lorraine. "Best get started quick. Go find someone and get it done quickly. I want to get back to the real world soon."

He didn't blame her. He felt like he was standing on another planet, surrounded by strangers who didn't speak his language, were barely even human. He let her go, strategically wandering off towards the stairs after the sisters, and tried not to let the worry overwhelm him. He had made a fool of himself countless times in front of his fellow soldiers, lied in the face of the recruitment officers, fought in a war and lost almost everything he had ever cared about trying to stop evil. He could handle a few eccentric socialites.

A minute later, and he changed his mind. He couldn't.

He dithered uselessly in the center of the room, taking in the sights and trying to look casual. Judging by the odd glances people now kept throwing at him, it wasn't working. He offered them weak smiles in return, but struck up a conversation with none, not even the women and men alike who watched his every move, no doubt gossiping about him behind their hands. He wondered vaguely if any of the Stark men were invited, if they were sweeping the crowd and charming everyone within reaching distance, and he hoped not.

He had toyed with the idea of getting a drink, lowering his inhibitions a little, and he had made it halfway to the bar before he remembered the serum. Then he had thought 'fuck it' and gotten a mystery drink anyway. He had only taken a sip, and the taste of fruit was thick on his tongue and it lingered for most of the night. He stood alone and slowly drank, wandering the room uselessly.

Both Hill and Fury would have been ashamed.

Then, Steve’s arm was yanked back, his elbow colliding with something firm that had brushed quite innocently past him. Instinctively, he made a noise of surprise, being pulled back a step by the force. His drink spilt over the rim of his glass, and a small amount splashed to the floor, narrowly missing his shoes.

“Ah, _shit.”_ A man’s voice hissed, low and quiet by Steve’s ear, and he pivoted on his heel, ready to apologize. He turned to face a man who looked even more awkward than Steve did, who was cursing quietly at the red liquid that was slowly spreading across his once white shirt. Steve swore to himself.

“I’m sorry,” He said earnestly, giving him his complete and undivided attention. He looked him up and down, a little wary, but he didn’t seem to be one of Rapture’s types. “Are you alright?”

“No, it’s alright, man, it’s cool.” The stranger laughed, and the smile would have looked more natural if his bared teeth were streaked with blood. His laugh was dry, uncommitted, and he wasn’t much of an actor. His face was almost a little pained. “I’m a little blitzed. Sorry I got in your way.”

“No, it’s my fault.” Steve insisted, stepping a little closer. The man dabbed at his shirt halfheartedly, and almost pointedly never looked up, keeping his dark eyes as far down as possible. “Is there something I can do?”

“It’s alright, I’m checking out anyway.” He shoved his now almost empty glass on a nearby table as if the glass was burning his skin, and in his eagerness he almost missed his mark, and the glass clattered against the surface. The liquid seeped out and ruined the cloth, and he seemed to not notice. “Catch you later.”

With a frown, Steve reached out. “Wait,” He had time to say, but his hand curled around nothing as the man shot away, slipping out of his reach and merging with the crowd quicker than he had appeared. Within a moment, he was lost, and Steve stared after him with mounting bewilderment.

There was another sudden touch, this time at his shoulder, and this time gentle. A man's baritone voice rumbled, strongly accented, "Are you alright? That man shot out of here fast."

Steve turned. The man facing him was huge, just as bulky and built as Steve was without the serum. He barely fit in his own suit, his wide set shoulders practically bursting the seams. His clothing was certainly as expensive but nowhere near as careful as Steve's- his tie was loosely done and the first button of his shirt had been left undone, exposing smooth and lightly tanned skin. Very new to Rapture then, Steve assumed, or just spending a little time in a tanning bed. He was young, with a cheerful smile and deep lines around his mouth than indicated that said smile was often present. He was young and handsome, with eyes that were both bright and warm, and it made Steve relax a little. He gave the stranger his first real smile of the night.

"Yeah," He agreed. "That was a little weird. I'm fine, though, thank you."

"I see. I'm glad to hear that." Steve placed his accent as European- British, but with a hint of something that he couldn't quite place. The man clapped his shoulder once, firmly, and the sheer force of it would have sent Steve flying across the room before the serum. "Do be careful here- Ryan does not tolerate men of his type, but it does not mean that they don't linger in Rapture's shadows."

"Men of his type?" Steve questioned, and the man's smile sharpened.

"Roguish men," He spoke somewhat airily. "One of those Johnny Topsiders, those from above who try to ruin what Rapture stands for. Parasites, in another word."

_He’s one of them_ , Steve thought, a little disappointed. For a moment, he had thought the man was different. "I see. Well, thank you-" He moved to pull away, intending to lose himself in the crowd.

“Wait,” The man's light grip on his shoulder tightened, just a fraction, and his head tilted to the side like an overgrown, curious hound. His smile, however, never faltered. "Do I know you, sir?" He looked Steve up and down, rendering him unable to move.

_I hope not,_ he sincerely thought. He didn't want people in a place such as this to recognize him as Captain America, from the 'topside', the symbol of everything Ryan allegedly stood against. Things would get messy quick- but it would get even worse if he lied. Inwardly, he cursed. “I don’t know. My name is Steve Rogers.”

His eyes went wide with recognition. "The Captain?" After a long moment where his expression was touched with clear surprise, his smile turned into a wide grin, and he slapped Steve's shoulder multiple times, each harder than the last. Steve winced a little at the force. The man only laughed, a sound like thunder rolling down from the mountains. No-one turned to stare, and Steve guessed that they had grown used to his volume. For that, he was grateful. "It is good to meet you, Captain. An honour, if you will. I am Thor Odinson."

"I, I see. Hello." He replied, uncertain and awkward. "It's good to meet you, lovely to be here."

Thor wasn't paying attention. He curled his arm around his shoulders like a close friend would, and turned, hauling him around with alarming ease. "Jane!" He boomed across the room, impossibly loud over the chatter and the gentle music.

From against the glass wall, a woman once in deep conversation with another turned her head and raised a thin eyebrow. Her hair was long and dark, and she was appealing, but dressed plainly compared to others. Thor waved her over, blissfully unaware to Steve’s mounting discomfort. Jane sighed, reaching out to touch the forearm of the other girl. “Excuse me, Darcy.” She said. “Thor is being a nuisance again.”

Darcy snorted. “When isn’t he?” She said with a lopsided smirk, but she turned away and let Jane approach. She crossed the room with quick efficiency, looking Steve up and down. Her eyes were sharp and calculating, but she seemed genuine enough in Steve’s eyes.

“My lady Jane,” Thor reached out, as if to take her arm, but stopped just short of physical touch. “If you haven’t met this man yet, I wish to introduce you.” He gestured towards Steve, and he tried to look as put together and calm as was possible. His heart rate had sped up a worrying amount. “This man is Steve Rogers- if you recall, he is Captain America.”

She certainly recalled. Her expression flickered, again with recognition, but she smoothed it over quickly, attempting to disguise the flare of suspicion before Steve spotted it. She wasn’t fast enough. Jane offered him his hand, out of necessity more than genuine interest, and he pressed a small kiss to the back of her knuckles. He noticed that she had small nicks that marred her skin, and even what looked like little bites. “Hello, Captain.” She greeted when he released her. “It’s a pleasure.” Her smile was tight, and she looked like she wanted to be anywhere else.

_Yet another who doesn’t want to be here,_ he thought, _but does she want to be out of the party, out of Rapture or away from me?_

“It’s wonderful to be here.” Steve said smoothly, with practised precision. It was still a little clumsy, the words falling short. “And a pleasure to meet the both of you.” He took a leaf from Hill’s book. “Rapture is a beautiful city. You’re lucky to live here.”

Jane seemed to twitch. “Aren’t we.” Her voice was droll. “Aren’t you lucky to be here? Are you simply visiting?”

_I’ve come here to try and get you to reach into your ever deepening pockets to help the starving and the homeless after another world war, you bastards,_ a mean little voice said in his head. “Yes, I’m not sure for how long,” He said instead with a small shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve come with my partner to see if I can gather funds for Europe. The President is eager to fix the world up with limited government interference, really, but a few groups are bickering with him.” With the change of Presidency from Roosevelt to Eisenhower with all his claims of the government’s ‘creeping socialism’, Fury would have been tearing his hair out, he thought humorlessly. “Roosevelt’s New Deal helped a little, and some groups want to continue some social welfare programmes to aid restoration attempts, but leadership is changing. I suppose we’ll see what happens officially when I return to the surface.”

Jane looked like she was struggling to repress hysterical laughter- Steve didn’t blame her. “I don’t know how much aid you’re going to get, Captain Rogers. People here don’t exactly like giving their money away. Most people came here to get away from altruism.”

“Nonetheless, I would like to support you, Captain,” Thor declared. He reached behind him as a waiter passed by, plucking a wine glass from his tray. He took a large gulp before resuming. “I came from the surface, after all, and Europe is my home. I will do this for the people who struggle.”

Hill’s voice came to him suddenly- _"If you can get someone to part with their cash without trickery, I'll tell Fury you're the best agent we've ever had,_ "- and he grinned.

“That’s kind of you,” Steve noted Jane’s miniature smile, seemingly shimmering with pride despite her own hesitation. That was surprisingly easy, but I don’t think the celebrations should begin just yet. I doubt others will be so agreeable. “Should we discuss this another time? I feel like discussing money is appropriate at a party like this.”

Thor beamed, and it was like staring into the sun. “Of course. Would you like a drink, Captain? Jane?”

He needed ten, and the return of the ability to get blind drunk. “Please,” He smiled in order to be polite, and Thor immediately disappeared. Jane watched him go for a long moment, her face carefully expressionless. Steve found himself wondering about the exact definition of their relationship, and whether they were more than they originally appeared. He remembered the way Thor reached for her, and the way she gazed at him, seemingly without realising.

He vaguely wondered how Hill was getting on plying their trade. He turned his head, his eyes sweeping the crowd, but there was no sight of her.

“Captain,” Jane suddenly called for his attention, and he gave it. “I would like to give you and your other friend some advice.” She lowered her voice and drew closer, until she was only inches away. “Don’t talk about the New Deal system to anyone. Especially Andrew Ryan.”

That gave him pause. “I take it he doesn’t have a good view of socialism, then.”

Jane laughed, a bitter sound. “Bolshevik poison from the New Dealists.” She said, matter of factly, but it sounded stale in her mouth almost like she was quoting it for the thousandth time.

“I suppose Ryan and Eisenhower would get along well, then.”

“They wouldn’t,” She laughed once more. “They really wouldn’t.”

At that moment, Thor returned. A harried looking waiter followed at his heels, carefully balancing a tray with three tall glasses. They all took one each with thanks, but none took a sip even as the man scurried back away to the bar. Thor looked at them all.

“A toast to Rapture, perhaps? A toast to our victory in the war?”

“The war has been over for a long time, Thor.” Jane gently reminded him. “A decade, now.”

Steve thought of the simmering tensions between Eisenhower and Khrushchev, and said nothing. “A toast.” He agreed instead, and their glasses connected with a sharp sound, and Steve could barely taste it as it poured down his throat. He swallowed the lot nonetheless, and followed Thor’s example of leaving the empty glass on a table.

“Come,” Thor apparently wasn’t aware that you could talk to another person without making everything a declaration. He grabbed Steve again and practically hauled him across the room, making sure he couldn’t break free. “We will talk more over here.” He pulled him across the room to where Jane once stood. Darcy had long disappeared, but the three took her old place, standing against the glass. Thor flashed a grin at Jane, who followed in their wake still clutching her half full glass. “Perhaps we will see one of your daughter’s guardians outside.”

“Perhaps.” She said with an answering smile, but Thor began to chatter before Steve could ask just who Jane’s daughters were and what the hell their ‘guardians’ were doing out on the ocean floor.

They talked animatedly for a good long while, Thor and Jane steadily drinking, and Steve thought hours may have slipped by while they discussed their lives and history. As the time past, his nerves diminished. Steve said little of himself, and listened with interest that was only a little feigned as the two talked of themselves.

Thor came from an old and famous family, one that even Steve had heard of, before his years in the ice. His father, known only in the business world as Odin ran a huge and complex company that he had moved to Rapture as soon as it was finished, one that Thor was set to inherit after his death. He spoke of his father with clear pride, and of his mother and younger brother with affection.

Jane was a scientist, he found, and a brilliant one at that. She had been brought to Rapture by a man who served as her father figure, taking her under his wing ( _“although I’m more his carer than his assistant,_ ” She complained, but fondly) and had flourished here for two years. Thor seemed prouder of her accomplishments than she was herself. She seemed satisfied and content, if not exactly happy. They said nothing of her daughters.

They had only began to touch on the mystery of the masks when the air changed.

He became aware of a sudden quiet, a barely there tension. He tensed on reflex, eyeing each individual carefully. Thor seemed to also pick up on it, intuitive despite his youth, but he upheld his seemingly trademark sunny smile. Jane's own was thinning and brittle, like to snap at any moment. She stepped a little closer to her friend, their elbows lightly knocking together.

Steve became aware that their eyes were focused on a point just past his right ear.

"Mr Stark," Jane called out in greeting, and Steve felt the blood roar and rush like the ocean in his head, and the pit of his stomach froze in a matter of seconds. He felt dizzy. "A pleasure to see you again."

A long, awkward and heavy silence ensued, and Steve would have vastly preferred it if the windows all abruptly shattered and the ocean reclaimed them all. He stood utterly still, unknowing how to react and hyper aware of Stark's apparent presence behind him. _Please be the son_ , he prayed to any deity that deigned to listen, _please don't be Howard, not yet, I'm not prepared._

Footsteps sounded from behind him, heavy and ridiculously ominous. Around them, the party went on, the guests utterly oblivious. Steve felt someone brush past his side. He chanced a look, his guts knotting up with apprehension.

Howard Stark stared unashamedly back at him, his once warm and familiar eyes distant and strange, painfully wide. He was looking at Steve like he had seen a ghost, and really, Steve supposed he had. The last time Howard had spent more than a minute in his presence, he was still slumbering in a case of thick ice. Everything after then when Steve was thawed was a blur of senseless rage and blinded accusations. He had come to to the sound of shouting, and it had not left him until Howard gave in, stormed out and abandoned them for Rapture.

He gaped up at him now, and he looked different. He had new frown lines etched deeply into his forehead, crows feet in the corner of his eyes. His laughter lines were no longer visible, and he clutched an entire bottle of an unrecognizable alcohol in his hands. It had been forgotten and was now loosely gripped in his hand, but likely not for long.

It had been five years since he last saw his friend smile, and the time had worn away at him like waves on the shore.

Howard opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He just stared, for a long while. Jane cleared her throat carefully, and the music played and party goers swayed around them. Time was frozen and Steve waited for Howard to speak.

His first word to him in three years was his name. "Steve," He said, his voice hushed as if in reverence, and to Steve’s ears he sounded bone tired.

Steve nodded his head, once. "Howard." He returned simply. “It’s good to see you again.”

Howard barked out a short laugh, a sound of disbelief. "Jesus Christ." The hand that didn't hold the bottle reached up, and he ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ, I saw you a minute ago, but I thought I was dreaming. God, it’s actually you.”

He didn’t know what to say. “It’s me,” He eventually said, feeling utterly useless and ridiculous. “I’m here.”

Howard just let out a long breath, never taking his eyes away from Steve’s face. The awkwardness of the encounter stung each of them, and Steve could see Thor shifting in the corner of his eye. He felt awful for the two of them, remembering how he felt third wheeling Bucky’s dates, but he had no way to relieve the tension.

After a moment, Howard stepped closer. “What are you doing here?” He said in an almost accusatory manner, and Steve recalled the way that Howard and Peggy had parted ways. _And I couldn’t do anything to stop it._ It felt like a knife twisting in his heart.

He came closer yet, until Steve could smell the expensive cologne mixed with a delicate perfume and a heady touch of alcohol. It was like he had tried to use the cologne to cover it up. Steve gave the bottle a second glance, and saw it was almost empty, the liquid sloshing around.

“Perhaps we should find Darcy,” He heard Thor murmur distantly. “I don’t want her bickering with Selvig again, or hunting down Banner. And we should,” he paused. “Give these two some time.”

Jane muttered her own silent agreement, and the two moved past Steve carefully, as if not to jostle him. As they passed, Thor said “We will talk of aid another time, Captain Rogers.” and Steve gave him a small smile of thanks, but said nothing.

As soon as they were gone, Howard immediately swept forward and pulled Steve into a firm hug. He wrapped his arms around his broad shoulders and clung to him with thinly veiled desperation, and took a deep, deep breath. Steve tensed in his hold.

“Christ.” He said again, and his voice was wavering dangerously. “It’s been years.” He held him tightly for a few long moments, much longer than Steve was comfortable with. When he was released, he was impossibly glad. “How long have you been here? I was told people from above were coming, but I didn’t know it was you. I would have rolled out the welcoming committee, I would have met you in the bathysphere station. Only the best for our Captain.”

“I’ve only been here since this evening. I got an invitation here, thought I’d attend and get myself acquainted.”

"Well, it seems like you're making friends already." He gestured to where Thor and Jane had disappeared. "That woman, she's big here. She's a smart girl, got a lot going for her. Suchong wont let me get anywhere near her, though." His laughter was a touch uneasy. "And Thor, well. As large as life. And clever. Suppose they'd make a good pair one day."

Steve didn't know what to say. "I suppose." He thought of Jane's daughters, and wondered who their father was. He felt like it was imprudent to ask.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Howard suddenly asked, his old eyes gleaming a little. "I bet you're not comfortable here, you never were around rich strangers. We could go to someplace quiet, another little restaurant, my apartment maybe..."

He spoke quickly, as if nervous, and Steve barely had time to interrupt him. "I should stay," He regretfully declined. "My partner is around here somewhere, off chatting. I shouldn't leave without her." He could have, and she wouldn't have cared. She would have even supported it if it helped the case for Europe, but it wouldn't have done much for their 'deeply in love' cover story, and he didn't want to wander too deep into the unknown corners of Rapture. He didn't trust Ryan, not a bit, and he barely even trusted Howard after everything.

Howard suddenly fell silent, cutting himself off. He blinked up at Steve. "I... your partner?"

"Yeah, I brought my best girl with me."

Something changed in Howard's eyes, and his jaw tightened. "You bought Carter?"

"No, that didn't work out." That wasn't entirely a lie. He and Peggy were stuck in a dance, not quite together but they knew they both had something that bore no name. He wasn’t sure how it would end, but he knew time would tell. He had originally wanted to take her instead of Hill, but Fury wouldn't allow it because of the old friendship between her and Howard. He admittedly found it a little strange that Fury was more than happy to send Steve down, but God forbid Fury answer any of his questions with even a drop of truth. It wasn't a lie, Steve firmly told the part of himself that despised those who lied. It's just bending the truth, ripping away the context. "I'm with Maria now. Maria Hill."

He thought that would have soothed him, eased the sudden tension, but it seemed to make things even worse. Steve could feel Howard's simmering resentment. He knew that Howard was aware of Maria’s role as an agent of SHIELD, but he would only go along with so many lies. He wouldn’t pretend they were together for their benefit. His grip on the bottle had tightened. "Well, congratulations." Stark said, with the attitude of someone who was having a tooth forcefully removed without anesthetic. "But yeah, I get it. I shouldn't go either. My wife and my son are kicking about somewhere." His voice held distaste, and he took a sudden swig from his bottle. No one else in the room was drinking directly out of the bottle, even those who were blind drunk.

Steve felt like he couldn't say anything right.

"We should go upstairs, at least." Howard told him. "Less people. We could have more privacy up there."

"That would be great," Steve agreed. "We can catch up there. Like old times."

That made Howard happy again. He smiled and although he didn't touch him again, he reached out like Thor did to Jane and guided him away, around to the stairs that had gradually emptied out. The restaurant was still busy with a multitude of people, however, and Steve felt sorry for the stressed looking waiters that struggled to keep up with the demand. He wondered how it all worked- how food was delivered and the like, or did they grow it themselves? If so, how did it work? The logic didn't make sense to him, but he was standing in the middle of what he thought was an impossibility, so it must have worked somehow. He made a mental note to ask once Howard had relaxed and they were both caught up.

He followed him up the stairs, close at his heel. When they emerged, he saw that while the top floor was not quite as big as below, it was more private, almost like a VIP area if everyone in Rapture wasn't already a VIP. To the right was what appeared to be a bathroom, while to the left were tables and chairs that sat on a balcony. There were soft, comfortable looking sofas, not many of them taken, and there was much less noise. The music was quieter, gentle, and the gossip between patrons was low. There was drifting cigarette smoke in the air, and the heady smell of alcohol was stronger from the small bar in the centre of the room. When Howard emerged, several people called out in greeting, only to fall quiet when Steve appeared. He took no offence- he was used to it.

Howard greeted them with a simple wave of the hand that still clutched the bottle, but paid them little heed. Instead he took Steve over to one of the wide tables on the left, right on the edge of the balcony. A woman sat there alone, an almost empty wine glass in her left hand and a cigarette in her right. The table was littered with empty bottles and glasses alike, and the ashtray was almost overflowing. She was young, a good few years younger than Howard himself, with little sign of age. Steve didn't recognize her, but Howard certainly knew her.

"Maria," He shouted rather than called, his tone vicious. She looked up with a start, her dark eyes wide. "Where's Tony?" He demanded to know, his tone no longer gentle. With a seconds recovery, Maria pulled a face.

"Chasing a skirt." She said airily, utterly uncaring. She tapped her glowing cigarette out against the tray, and the ash crumbled. "Making a fool out of himself, no doubt."

"Making a fool out of us, more like." He snapped. "Damn that boy. Why didn't you stop him?"

She didn't grace that with a reply, instead taking a deeper drink of her wine. Steve sensed a clear problem, among many the family clearly had. She looked him up and down, no spark of recognition in her eyes. "It's a good thing he's gone," Her smirk was ugly on her lovely face. "He'd be on this one in a flash."

"He wouldn't." Howard spat as Steve flushed all the way to his toes. "He wouldn't dare."

Howard's wife shrugged her slim shoulders dismissively. "Who are you, sugar?"

Before Steve could reply, Howard barked out a laugh. "Who's this," He repeated, disbelieving. "Who's this? This is Steve Rogers, woman. Captain America."

Maria's eyes darkened abruptly. "I'm sorry," She said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "You never talked about your work, darling." The endearment was acidic, like she wanted to lunge across the table and bury cutlery in his chest. _What a happy marriage._

Howard put his bottle on the table, yanking out a chair on the opposite side of his wife. He tipped his head at another chair, next to him, and Steve took it, settling himself down carefully. He was painfully aware of how the other patrons stared. The woman took a deep drag of her cigarette, and Howard took a long drink. Steve sat silently.

He wanted to be back downstairs more than anything. _How things change so quickly._

“I suppose the million dollar question is how you’ve been.” Steve began when Howard placed the bottle back down with a thud. He watched as he dried his mouth with back of his hand, a bad habit he clearly still hadn’t cleansed himself of. It was disgusting, but a little comforting at the same time.

The fingers of Howard’s other hand remained firmly on the neck of the bottle, as if to prevent anyone from taking it away. “I’m living in a Utopia created with my own hard work, and the even harder work of my close friends. I’m happy.” He didn’t look happy, but Steve hardly wanted to be the focus of Howard’s ire, and so he pretended to believe the blatant lie. “Rapture is a wonderful place, full of opportunities.” His expression hardened. “And it used to be free of parasites, until you brought Hill here.”

“Howard,” He said warningly, the way he knew a man in love would. “I barely understand what ‘parasite’ means to you people, but she’s a good dame. She doesn’t deserve that from you.”

Howard glowered at him, all friendliness long gone. “She’s with SHIELD,” he hissed, thankfully having the good sense to lower his voice. “How is she a ‘good dame’?”

“SHIELD is made of good people,” Steve told him earnestly. “And they have good intentions. To this day, I still have no idea what happened to make you think otherwise.”

Howard shook his head, huffing. He had pressed his lips together tightly until they paled, and his expression was tight. “They fucked me over after everything I did for them, after I damn well made them, after I found you after the crash,” He growled, “And they expected me to stick with them after everything. Carter was being nothing but an ice cold bitch when you went down, and insufferable when we found you, and I couldn’t say anything about it because you were sweet on each other.” He paused as he took a deep drink. The last of the alcohol was finally gone, and he placed the empty bottle on the floor next to their table. He eyed the bar for a long moment, longer than Steve felt comfortable with, so he quickly stole his attention.

“I don’t think you understand just how in the dark I was,” Steve told him, his voice firm. He found it like trying to make peace with an overgrown and moody child. “All I knew, hell, all I know is that I went down with close friends, and by the time I woke up I had missed five years and said friends were refusing to talk to one another even though they had made a goddamn agency together with a ridiculously hard to remember acronym.” That earned a laugh, albeit a small one. Steve supposed it was progress.

“Carter was desperate to make it spell out shield,” Howard said, a little sad, and Steve thought back to the his shield that he was forced to leave behind on the surface and his heart hurt at the realization. But Howard shook his head. “I know they were quiet about it all. I know they kept things from you. But they were keeping things from me- when we found the tesseract, Fury snapped it up as quick as you please and I never saw it again. I requested to test with it after I played around with the sample back in 1943, but they got all nervous and wouldn’t let me. They liked to keep things close to their chest- and I never got told a damn thing.”

The tesseract? Steve thought, stung. Is that all he cares for? He narrowed his eyes, discomfort and irritation being to bubble and rise to the surface. “I’ve barely been told anything either,” Steve reminded him, his voice sharp. “And I didn’t decide to just pack up and leave for an underwater city.”

Howard’s jaws ground together uncomfortably, and Maria sighed softly as if in irritation, her eyebrows practically disappearing into her hairline, but kept quiet. “I didn’t ‘pack up and leave’, Rogers, I was invited. I helped build this goddamn place, and I was gonna live in it and help run the show. I wasn’t going to stay where people were taking my help from granted and laughing at me behind my back.”

“No, you packed up and ran.” Steve reiterated. “I don’t know what you’re doing here Howard, but we need you back there far more than they need you here. I don’t know what the hell you’re playing at, acting like a damn child.” Howard recoiled as if Steve had struck him, his mouth falling opening with surprise. The tension between them built and sizzled.

“Everything I did, for them and for you, and you’re calling me a child?” Howard’s voice had risen to a dangerous level, and his knuckles were white with tension. Steve wasn’t sure what was worse- being full blown shouted out, or listening to soft, disappointed tones. “How dare you?”

“Howard,” Maria spoke up, her voice distant but pointed and severe. “You’re making a scene.”

The two men started at the sudden sound of her soft voice- and realised just how close they had grown to one another. Howard had stood on unsteady legs, his palms flat against the table. He was trembling a little, his cheeks flushed with either rage or alcohol. Steve himself remained firmly in his seat, tilting his head up to glower at his old friend. They had both leant forward, dangerously, and were only inches away from each other. Coming back to their senses, they pulled back, and Steve chanced a brief look across the room.

Everyone was staring. Unashamed, they gawked. All conversation had long since died in favour of listening to their building argument. The bar had quit serving drinks and watched them with what could have been fear in their eyes. People had wandered out of the bathroom and stopped dead, watching them bicker silently. They didn’t even look away when Steve watched them in return. One man even leant across the table to his partner, whispering something in her ear while never tearing her gaze away.

Steve’s face and neck felt hot with embarrassment, and he tore his gaze away, staring at the smooth wood of the table. Howard cleared his throat loudly in the silence of the room, and sat down without a word. They refused to look at each other.

"Huh," A new unfamiliar voice, belonging to a young man rang out across the silent room. "Is it too late for me to leave?"

Howard and Maria both twitched at the sound, and the older man shot a fierce look in the direction of the stairs. His body language suddenly became defensive, and his eyes were polished black stone. "Go." Howard told him without even a greeting, a fair warning, and Steve turned with curiosity to see who would spark such a venomous reaction.

A young man who was likely in his mid twenties stood at the top of the stairs, a small glass in his own hand. He rattled it gently, and the ice in the scotch against the glass was the only sound against the music and the soft chatter from downstairs. Like Thor, he was dressed in the latest Rapture fashion, but in a casual manner. His tie had been loosened and his top buttons undone- one was even missing, the ruined thread suggesting that it has been pulled off. Judging by the brand new, still red mark that had been sucked just above his collarbone, a paramour had their hands on him only minutes ago. His jacket was slung over his arm and his crisp shirt was untucked. He had his hands shoved in his trouser pockets with his hip cocked and his weight on one leg, and a lazy grin plastered on his face. Such a manner would have made others unappealing, but it served only to make this man even more attractive.

Judging by the fact he looked almost exactly like a younger version of his father, Steve guessed he was now face to face with Tony Stark.

The way Howard glared at him only confirmed it. "You can still leave. Go back downstairs."

Tony shrugged, the movement screaming 'whatever' and he pivoted on his feet to wander back down, no doubt to rejoin the one who gave him the bite, but Steve spoke up.

"No," He interrupted, and every eye fell on him. Tony looked back up, and he seemed to physically recoil when he spotted Steve for the first time. His eyes were just as wide as Howard's. "I'd like to meet him. I never had the chance before you left."

Howard's expression was sullen, and he gave Steve a few seconds as if expecting him to change his mind, but he didn't argue. "Come here then, boy." He commanded, and to Steve's surprise Tony didn't refuse or even argue. He seemed to have recovered from his surprise- he crossed the room like it was a catwalk, his walk more of a swagger. He even dared to wink at one of the ladies perched at another table, and she flushed a delicate pink while her mother spluttered with outrage. A textbook playboy.

He took the other seat next to Steve, to Howard's evident disapproval, and sat with his legs splayed wide apart. His knee bumped into Steve's, and he pointedly moved his leg away. It only served to widen Tony's grin, but he left him alone.

"I'm Tony Stark," He practically drawled. "And you're Steve Rogers."

"I am." Steve confirmed, with a returning smile. Despite everything, the man had an infectious charm. He could clearly see why so many people liked him, and why he was always such a hit with men and women. It helped that he was undeniably handsome, and how his smile could put you at ease. He could almost feel the tension slipping away- almost. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

At that, Stark's boy threw back his head and laughed. Steve imagined it would have been a pleasant sound, if it wasn't so mocking. "Jeez," He said once the laughter had tapered away into giggles. There were deep laughter lines around the sides of his mouth. "Aren't you sweet."

"That's no way to talk to him!" Howard interrupted. Several thin lines had appeared on his forehead. Maria looked faintly amused, her eyes appearing to twinkle while in turn her husband was furious. "You know who he is, and he deserves more respect. You don't even deserve to be speaking to him."

"Howard!" Steve said sharply, frowning heavily. He looked between the three of them, waiting for someone to speak up in defence. None made any attempt. Tony looked utterly unaffected, as if he were used to it. Maria put her drink to one side, and the only indication that she was even listening was the faint way her lips, painted a deep shade of bold, fashionable red were pursed. _What hell kind of family is this? What happened to you, Howard?_

Steve stared him down alone, his expression stony. Howard simmered with anger, for a moment refusing to back down- but after a long while settled back down, chatisted.

Outwardly, Tony didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest. He dipped his head in Maria’s general direction- but didn’t meet her eyes. “Hi, mom.”

Her lips curved upwards, sweetly. She didn’t look fully at him either. “Hello, darling.” She spoke to him like she was making small talk with an acquaintance, rather than greeting an only son.

At least they seem to be on decent terms, Steve thought, only half sarcastically. What a wonderful world they’ve built in this Utopia. He pressed the tip of the fingers on his right hand to his temple, resting his elbow on the chair arm, and sighed softly. He had lost all pretence of patience long ago. He didn’t recall Howard being so disagreeable, even when he and Peggy had clashed. “Good to see you’re doing well so well.”

Tony snickered at that. The lines of Howard’s body, particularly his shoulders were tight and tense. Steve wondered if he was going to make yet another scene- and just how many times Tony and Howard had clashed together in public for everyone to see. “And it’s good to see you’ve come to darken my doorstep once more.”

“Darken your doorstep?” Steve repeated, his eyebrows shooting up. Howard’s eyes flickered with some unreadable, temporary emotion as if he regretted the words as soon as it was too late to take them back, but he made no apologies. “Why, I’m sorry. I thought we had been friends, good friends, and I thought I’d come to help you. The only reasons I came here was for aid and for you, all the while knowing I wouldn’t be welcome here, and you treat me like this.” His temper flared up like flame, unquenchable. “After everything, I just want things to go back to normal, I want us to work together again like before.” His voice went soft, dangerously so. “And you’re here, in this dark, dank city.”

Howard’s smile was both parts hideous and cruel. “You’re exactly how I remember you, Steve.” He said, ominously, slowly shaking his head.

There was a beat, and then another. Steve had nothing more to say, and Howard was clearly finished, with no energy left to fight. He dropped his head down, his chin resting on his sternum like he was falling asleep. He pulled firmly at his cuffs in an almost nervous manner, to distract his mind that worked overtime, agitating them and making as if to yank off the sleek golden buttons that served as his cuff links. Steve noticed for the first time how intricate they were, the level of detail put into something so small and irrelevant. Lines were etched into the small circle, curving all along the edges, and coming together to form a bold ‘R’. He turned his head, wondering if Tony wore the same- only to find that he wore plain silver.

He wondered what to think of that, and whether the ‘R’ stood for Ryan or Rapture.

“I’m going back downstairs,” Tony announced after a moment. He reached up, running a thumb across his collarbone and lightly touching the bite that was no longer as red, but was still as clear as day on his soft skin. He pressed down on it as if to physically remind himself of it’s presence, and grinned. “Back to people who can actually stand me.”

“I’ll go with you,” Steve volunteered, and Howard’s head snapped back up so fast he was surprised he didn’t break the bone with a sharp crack. Nonplussed, he gaped across the table. “I’d like to meet some of your friends,” He explained. “It’s what I’m here for, after all.” Getting Thor’s help so quickly was a great accomplishment and a fantastic aid, but no matter how much he gave Steve knew the money would be spent in no time at all. Tony’s friends, no doubt, were the kind that had money change hands quickly. He didn’t expect to get anything from them at all, but it was a smart move to start making connections.

Howard’s expression abruptly soured, the man wilting like a dying orchid, and when Tony saw this his vindictive smile lit up his face. “I’ll be glad to introduce you.” Clapping a hand against Steve’s back- Howard twitched, but said nothing- Tony rose from his chair, calling across to a waiter at the bar for another scotch as he did. “I’m sure they’ll love you,” He promised, checking Steve out from head to toe.

“I’m going back to my apartment,” Howard said, darkly. He stood up suddenly, his chair pushing backwards with screech against the tiled floor. The movement knocked his abandoned bottle over with another loud sound, but it went ignored. The man stared down at Steve with contempt, like the parasite Steve knew he likely was in the eyes of the elite. “I’d suggest that you should join me, rather than run off with Anthony. I live in the Mercury Suites. I’m sure someone could give you directions.” With that, he shoved his way past Tony without another word and disappeared down the stairs without another look, leaving his family and friend behind.

Tony’s smile was as sweet and thin as fresh candyfloss. “Dear old dad.” He practically purred, and Steve didn’t know what to say to that.

-

A vast majority Tony’s friends were not the kind of people that Steve would have ever kept company with on the surface. They distinctly reminded him of his Commandoes, if they were permanently blind drunk and actively trying to get themselves killed doing ridiculous stunts. He liked the sane ones, but for every one person who rolled their eyes at such antics there were a dozen doing said antics, or placing bets on them.

He found himself having a little bit of fun, after he grew used to the noise level. He didn’t relax the whole way, he never would while still in Rapture, but his smiles came more easily, gradually coaxed out by awful jokes from Tony and the stumbling of drunken idiots.

And he was right- he knew he wasn’t going to get a penny from clearly spoilt rich kids who drank their money away, partying almost desperately like they were never going to a moment to themselves again. They were all so young, so loud, and so desperate to have fun while they still could. The night went by in a flurry of music and alcohol, laughter and shrieking. Watching them waste such wealth and take it entirely for granted was difficult. Steve thought of his childhood, the way his mother struggled through several jobs to put food on the table, to keep their home warm and pay his staggering medical bills. He thought of the way he and Bucky often had to huddle under threadbare blankets, and the way he could feel the cold seeping into his chest when the harsh winters came.

He stood in the middle of all this, a smiling Tony by his side all the way. Occasionally, he pulled flushed strangers out of the crowd and introduced him to them before releasing them back into the wild with a barely comprehensible shout of encouragement, and occasionally even a slapped arse. Steve met Sif, Rhodey, Pepper, Betty, even met Darcy again, and a blur of even more names he could barely remember. Drink after drink was pressed into his hand, and he found himself impossibly glad that it would have no effect. He found himself wondering only for a second where Hill was and how she had fared for the night, and he barely thought of Howard at all.

The party took a long while to begin winding down, most trickling out and returning home, and even then people still danced, still drank. A man Steve couldn’t recall the name of no matter how hard he tried was sprawled over one of the tables, limbs spread wide. His friends guffawed with laughter at the sight, and immediately pleaded with Pepper for some of her makeup, and when victorious began applying it thickly and generously. Rhodey watched them with a smile he could barely suppress. Steve imagined Sif would have joined in, if she didn’t have Darcy pressed up against one of the far walls, her hands knotted in her hair. He didn’t watch for long, giving them the privacy they seemed to not care about. He sat with Tony in one of the seats near the glass, watching the idiots play, like a parent keeping a watchful eye on energetic children. Ripples of laughter kept running through the group, an infectious sound.

“I like your friends.” Steve told Tony when Pepper brought down the fury of hell itself when her lipstick was pressed back into her hand, ruined. The man who returned it blanched, and looked like he feared for his life. “They’re interesting.”

Tony looked up at him, his cheeks flushed and his eyes shining with what appeared to be pride and contentment, and then he leant in and kissed him.

His lips were dry and almost uncomfortably chapped, but warm and eager. Tony pressed in close, crowding him against the benches plush back, invading his personal space. Usually, Steve hated that with a passion- but this time, he found he didn’t mind so much. He let him rest his hand against his chest. appreciating the intimate warmth. Steve didn’t return the kiss, but nor did he pull away.

When Tony withdrew, seemingly satisfied with pursed lips, Steve pulled a childish face down at him. It was immediately returned, no hesitation. “How long have you been waiting to do that?” He wondered aloud.

“All night.” Tony replied brightly. They shared a brief chuckle, Steve hyper aware of his thumb rubbing slow circles into his skin through his shirt. He watched as Tony’s gaze dropped back down to his lips, and then he lunged forward to kiss him again. Steve had a nagging feeling that Tony had never been too hot with impulse control.

His touch was much more fierce this time, hungrier. He reached up to grip Steve’s shoulder firmly, and nipped at his bottom lip in a playful manner. The soldier laughed a little against his mouth, huffing out a breath, and Tony took the chance to slide his tongue across his lower lip and tilted his head to deepen the kiss. And this time, he responded.

Tony tasted of scotch and smoke, and Steve wasn’t surprised in the slightest. He was, admittedly, a little taken aback by how slow and languid his kisses were, lazy and careful, taking his time. Steve took his time too, mostly uncaring.

He knew he had a list of good reasons why kissing Tony Stark was the Worst of Terrible Ideas, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember a single one with a warm, willing and utterly kissable body pressed up against him.

Tony broke away again, and Steve couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed when he leant forward, chasing Tony’s mouth. The younger man chuckled, his hand sliding up his shoulder to curl around the side of his throat, possessively. Steve couldn’t withhold his tremble, a familiar sensation sparking low in his belly. He looked at him, and Tony’s expression was surprisingly soft, delightfully so.

“You’re toying with me,” Steve said, even as he let Tony do so. His thumb now was rubbing another circle into the line between his neck and shoulder, and it felt too good for him to pull away. Tony Stark was a man who inspired all types of sin. He ran hot, and smelt like smoke and oddly enough, metal. “You’re a tease.”

“But you love it.” Tony reminded him, and he couldn’t argue with that.

A cheer rose from their company- Sif was hurriedly pulling Darcy out of the room and through Kashmir’s exist, hand in hand, and jeers and wolf whistles hounded them. Neither looked even remotely ashamed or embarrassed, twin smirks and blushes high on their cheeks. Steve stayed quiet, thoughtful, even as Tony called out after them. They disappeared, and after a moment of shared solidarity and giggles, interest was lost. Everyone returned to their tasks at hand, and Tony rounded on Steve once more to find him shocked out of the moment, reason returning to him.

Tony didn’t have Steve’s attention anymore, and that wouldn’t do.

He shifted suddenly in his seat, and adventurously swung a leg over Steve’s lap. He settled himself down before Steve could protest- not that he probably would have- and got himself comfortable, resting on his thighs. He looked down at him with half lidded eyes.

“Hello.” He said with a sly grin.

“Hello, yourself.” Steve replied, suckered back in, only be cut off when he was firmly kissed yet again. He let it happen, and dropped his hands to rest carefully on Tony’s hips. He was very cautious not to let them drop any further. Tony sucked his lip in between his teeth, gnawing on it with much appreciate care, and dared to rock his hips gently into Steve’s.

His grip tightened in response, and tried his best not to make a sound. With a tight, controlled voice he said, “You’re very confident, aren’t you? You think a lot of yourself.” He rolled his own hips in response, minutely, just enough for Tony to notice. His face felt flushed and warm, and the restaurant seemed a lot warmer than it had only minutes ago.

“I’ll have you know, I practically ooze sex.” Tony shot back.

“You might want to get that checked out.” Steve told him, and delighted when the man on him laughed, good and loud. It drew some attention, he saw, and a handful of people stared at the sight of Tony sprawled on his lap. They were almost a wonderful mix of too drunk and too shocked to give them the same treatment as Sif and Darcy. Almost. More wolf whistles pierced the air, drawing even more eyes to them, but they went completely ignored.

“I wanted you from almost the second I saw you.” Tony informed him, his tone matter-of-fact. Steve finally let his hands slip further down, sliding down Tony’s thighs. He could feel the quivering begin under his touch, and he rubbed his hands up and down in a manner that would have been soothing if it wasn’t so intimate, so full of promise.

“You only want me because it would piss off your father,” Steve protested even as he kissed his way down Tony’s throat. He both tasted and felt his rumbling laughter.

“That’s true,” He openly admitted. “But it’s not the only reason. And don’t tell me you don’t want it.”

Steve hummed quietly against the skin, a reply but by no means an admission and silenced Tony’s laughs with a sharp bite, catching a small bit of skin between his teeth. That earned him a gasp, and he took pride in it. He left his own mark just below the one Tony had received before- he vaguely wondered if that person was among them now, seething with jealousy. The thought was vindictive, but it made him smile.

“We should get out of here.” Tony murmured in his ear, voice heavy with lust, and Steve agreed.

-

They didn’t go to Tony’s place in Mercury Suite, through mutual silent agreement, neither wanting to speak about why. Steve hardly thought it was a good idea to take him to his room instead when Hill could return at any moment, but Tony’s kisses were narcotic, and he needed more. He couldn’t think straight, not with Tony’s hands on his hips, his mouth on his.

Distant thoughts of Howard or Hill didn’t remain at the forefront of their minds for long, with Steve’s hands grasping for Tony’s arse, guiding his legs to wrap around his waist as he hoisted him up. That was one of the many things he liked about the serum- he could pick up men of Tony’s size like they were nothing. He carried him through the main room, lips locked all the while and burst into the bedroom. He dropped him unceremoniously on the large bed, and straddled his hips in one movement.

He could feel that Tony was hard in his pants, and he grinned, pressing against him in just the right way so they both knew the feeling was mutual. Tony grinned, sitting up a little and shrugging  out of his jacket with ease, tossing it across the room, not caring where it fell. He stole a few quick kisses while he was up, grabbing two handfuls of Steve’s arse and squeezing firmly. He hissed - _fuck -_ and his hips jolted.

“Your arse is fantastic.” Tony felt the need to tell him through words alongside actions, pulling him closer, appreciating the feeling of his body heat through their clothes. They rubbed together for a long moment, enjoying the friction, before Tony finally let go in order to tear at Steve’s clothes. “I need to see you right fucking now.” Steve helped him remove his jacket as quickly as possible, sliding it down his arms and dropping it to the floor just beside the bed. Tony yanked at his shirt buttons, practically tearing them free. One of the buttons were ripped loose and lost within the bed sheets. The shirt joined the jacket, and Tony took a moment to enjoy the sight of Steve’s bare chest, his long fingers coming up to tweak at a nipple.

“That’s the most expensive suit I own.” Steve scolded him, even as his weak voice shook. His touch was the best thing he had felt in long years.

“Fuck your suit.” Tony said, keeping it short and simple, and thrust his hips up, rocking against him firmly once, twice. “I’m gonna have it ruined, all soaked and unsalvageable by the time I’m done with you.”

He didn’t doubt him in the slightest. Tony toyed with his nipple a moment longer, his nails scratching lightly, before moving up to kiss him all over, everywhere he could reach in his slightly awkward position. Feeling a little self conscious about the glass wall even though Steve knew it was ridiculous, that no one could see them from outside, he tried to put it in the back of his mind and concerned himself with his new found lover. He let him explore for a moment, delighting in the feel of warm lips against him, but after he grew bored he pushed him down to the bed, wanting to take over. Tony barked out a laugh at the sudden display of dominance, the skin around his eyes crinkling with good humour, and he let him. Steve’s hands slipped underneath his shirt, delighting in the flat expanse of skin and the firm muscles he found there. He felt them tremble and twitch, and he wondered if Tony was ticklish. He vowed to find out another time.

He moved to undo the buttons of his shirt, finish off the work that another had started- and Tony’s hand was on his wrist in a flash. His grasp was firm, almost enough to leave marks that would have lasted days on the skin on another, spending only hours on his.

“Don’t.” He said, his voice hard, the kind of tone you just didn’t argue with. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “Leave my shirt on.” Steve’s hands had frozen, in the middle of undoing the third button while intending to suckle kisses all along his lover’s stomach. There was a sudden tension in the air, not the kind Steve had previously enjoyed.

_Why_ , was the burning question on the tip of Steve’s tongue, but Tony’s face was gaunt, almost haunted, and he didn’t think now was the time to bring out old ghosts. He clearly wouldn’t get an answer, anyway.

“Alright,” He made his own voice soothing, gentle, pulling his hands away and Tony’s grip gradually loosened. “Alright.” He bypassed Tony’s shirt and instead kissed the line of his prominent hip bones, leaving marks there instead. The man remained tense, on edge as if he were expecting Steve to tear his shirt off at any given moment. He sound it odd. He didn’t expect to find a Stark self conscious about something, especially a matter of the body. Steve wondered if there was an old injury that had lead to scarring, or something alike that. Either way, he wasn’t going to pressure him into a grand reveal.

He moved on as quickly as possible, wanting to dispel the suddenly tense air. He removed Tony’s trousers quickly, leaving his underwear and ignoring the erection that confronted him, and pressed eager kisses all along his strong thighs. He even nipped, leaving tiny marks as a claim and listening to the man’s soft exhales and breathy laughs. He intended to take his time, to lavish the man with pleasure. But Stark men never had much patience.

Tony tugged at his hair, enough to get his attention. “Get up here.” He ordered, and ever the good soldier- but never a perfect soldier, never- he halted, and crawled back up Tony’s body. As much as he wanted to drive him mad, to see what he looked like when desperate and how delicious he sounded when he begged, he wanted release. “Get on your back.” He followed the command immediately, almost without thought. The mattress was delightfully soft against him, pliant against his body. He parted his legs immediately, wanting Tony closer, and he slid in between without hesitation. He kissed him deeply, and the lost mood gradually returned, creeping back in. And soon Steve was panting heavily, the sounds almost smothered by Tony’s mouth.

He felt hands on his belt buckle, undoing it with those clever and nimble fingers. In no time at all, Tony was pulling his trousers and undergarments away and disposing of them, and then he had a hand wrapped around Steve’s cock. He allowed him a few firm strokes, his thumb smearing the precome at the tip and making him tremble. Steve lay naked with no further defences, pinned under another man, and he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Tony looked him up and down, smirking, and Steve flushed, full body. “You’ve got a nice cock,” He told him, still gripped loosely in his palm. Steve rocked his hips up into it, grinning, dazed. “I want that in me, next time.”

Steve knew that the promise of another time hadn’t been certain, and the revelation made his smile shift, turn into something softer, sweeter, more genuine. “Next time.” He agreed, and Tony beamed.

Temporarily crawling off of Steve- he whined at that, reaching after him- he grabbed his now crumpled trousers, delving into his pockets. He was back in just a second, an unfamiliar tube in his hand, but when he screwed off the lid and squeezed some out, lavishing his fingers generously, Steve realized it was lube. His mouth went dry, and excitement and arousal thrummed through him.

He reached down quickly, only hesitating when his fingers rubbed at the skin of his opening, gently slicking the outside. It was almost a test, seeing if it was okay to go this far so soon. His other hand went for Steve’s balls, toying with the carefully, and Steve’s moan stuttered, coming out broken. He said nothing, but he met Tony’s gaze fearlessly and nodded once, even lifting up his hips and Tony smiled before he pressed a single finger inside, just the tip to begin with, and Steve sighed with pleasure. The lube was cold and he shivered, but the rest of Tony was delightfully warm, and the contrast was almost soothing. Feeling encouraged, Tony slid it deeper, gently thrusting in and out.

When Steve felt ready, he knocked a knee into his hip. “More.”

Without argument he added another, beginning to slowly scissor them apart, rubbing at Steve’s increasingly pliant walls. A second became a third, and Steve was steadily keening, mewling like a kitten. He wanted more, so much more, but he couldn’t find the words to ask.

Tony hummed, clearly content with everything so far. He twisted his wrist and flexed his fingers, searching, and then it happened. Tony’s fingers brushed ecstasy deep inside him, and Steve started with a shout, pushing his hips down on the intrusion. “Ah, there you are.” Tony said, the scissoring movements coming to a sudden stop. Steve would have complained if Tony hadn’t pressed the pads of his calloused fingers to that spot and massaged it gently. Instead, he convolved and howled out Tony’s name to the ceiling, not giving a damn about whether or not someone could hear them.

Tony was relentless, keeping Steve down as if he was going to try and squirm away, caressing him until Steve was teetering right on the edge. He was begging, he thought, his voice a slur, an incomprehensible mess. Tony was hushing him quietly, soothingly. “Come on, baby.” He said. “Come for me.”

“ _Fuck,”_ Steve breathed before doing exactly that- he was coming with a soft cry, throwing his head back against the pillow and riding out an intense orgasm, Tony’s fingers still pressed against him, rubbing gently but insistently. He was almost sobbing, little hiccups falling free of his throat. His hips bucked uselessly for several long seconds, until he was spread across the mattress, a puddle of the man who used to be Steve Rogers, utterly boneless. He came down quietly, slowly calming, and Tony was there to catch him.

He kept his fingers inside for a moment, touching him through the sensitivity. But then he drew his slick fingers out with a soft sound, and Steve couldn’t find it in himself to be the slightest bit embarrassed at the depraved sound. He wondered how debauched he look, but found that he didn’t care. He only let his legs fall apart, spreading them wide. “Fuck me.” He demanded through swollen lips, and with a curse Tony struggled to get himself out of his underwear as quickly as possible. He kicked it off without a care, and slicked himself up with a few steady strokes. Leaning over him, he nuzzled Steve’s throat, licking up the tendon that stood out against his skin.

“Fuck me.” Steve repeated, and had intended to command him, but this time it was more of a plea. He flushed when Tony laughed against his throat, and the heady scent of smoke and metal had returned.

“Yes, Captain,” Tony breathed, smirking against him, and that just made everything so much better. Arousal flared up in his belly again, tingling and warm, and he groaned, and then Tony pushed up, pressing inside him. He sighed softly when he felt Steve’s heat wrapped around him, welcoming, and slid in further when there were no protests. Steve himself was breathing heavily, struggling to keep himself under control. His fingers were knotted and lost in Tony’s mane of thick, dark hair, and he tilted back his head and groaned softly, spreading his legs wider. The mattress was soft and accommodating under his back, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling so content.

Then Tony’s hips were flush against his, and he was peppering kisses against his cheek, chin and the corner of his mouth as they waited. He murmured low promises, about just how good it would be, the kind of marks he would leave, how Steve would be feeling it for days. He couldn’t do anything but whine uselessly in response. His cock was hardening again steadily, one of the most surprising things about the serum- but it was happily welcomed.

“Come on,” He eventually said, when he felt ready. “Come on.”

Tony’s hands guided Steve’s legs up to hover around his waist, and moulded him, pushing one to hook around his waist for better leverage- and then, he pulled out only to slide back in, and the two of them moaned into each other’s mouths. He started off slow, but he quickly found his rhythm with the speed only someone with plenty of experience could. Steve pulled him closer with his legs, deeper, his bare skin brushing against Tony’s shirt. Tony saw how his eyes were misty, clouded with lust, and how he had bitten his lower lip until it bled.

In response, he only increased his pace, thrusting into him relentlessly, refusing to treat him delicately. He touch was rough and his movements sharp, and Steve was crying out for more, for harder, faster, _please._ Tony did without argument, and when he chanced across that spot again Steve was clawing down his back, no doubt leaving marks that would take days to heal, crying out and pleading as his sight went black from the sheer pleasure of it all.

Tony himself was groaning against his neck, lips pressed against his maddening pulse point, feeling it beat wildly out of control. His hands were grasping Steve hips, guiding him and bringing him down harder. Sensation danced all across his body, and pleasure tore through the both of them.

It was too good to last long, and both men began to feel the telltale signs of orgasm creeping up on them. Tony’s thighs began to tense, and he began to lose his calculated rhythm, but Steve didn’t care. He began to feel that odd but pleasurable sensation in his abdomen, the building heat like dragon flame that warned him that it would all be over soon.

Steve blindly reached for his own cock, an angry red and bobbing against his abdomen with each thrust, and whimpered out a warning that came just a little too late. He stroked himself once, twice, and with the third time he fell. He came with a shattering cry of what was probably going to be Tony’s name, but neither man could quite tell. He painted his belly and chest with his come and howled, his shouts filling the room, feeling like he was being torn apart from the inside.

Tony thrust raggedly a few more times before coming too with a grunt, spilling warmth inside him. He kept their complex dance moving, the two riding out their waves until the storm calmed, and Tony simply rocked into him until Steve whimpered. They remained locked together for a moment, foreheads resting together and noses brushing almost sweetly.

Tony leant down and his kiss was bruising and firm, different from everything before. He kept him down on the mattress for a long moment, cock still inside, just leaning over and kissing him until Steve’s lungs began to burn. He pawed at him until Tony broke away, and the two of them were out of breath, chests heaving. Steve lay, virtually unresponsive, and Tony just stroked little circles, little designs against him skin, ones that Steve couldn’t follow and create in his own head in his daze. He registered the feeling of Tony slipping out, come on his thighs, and he had never felt so empty in his life. Tony shifted to lay on his side, facing Steve, still drawing those small nonsense designs against his sternum.

They basked silently in the post sex afterglow, their breath the only sound in the room until they recovered. Steve had feared it may have been awkward, but surprisingly it wasn’t. They lay there together for long minutes, in an companionable quiet.

Then without a word, Steve slipped out of bed. He found he missed Tony’s touch and the warmth of another body, and the feeling of the soft and cool sheets on his overheated skin dearly, but he felt mucky and soiled and needed to be clean. He stepped over the rumpled and heaped clothes without a thought, and he could feel Tony’s heated gaze on his back, no doubt unashamedly gawking at his arse. Looking back and offering a lazy, sated grin when he found his suspicions to be correct, he disappeared into the connecting bathroom with a maybe deliberate sway of his hips.

The bathroom was oversized for only two people and so sterile Steve wondered if anyone had stayed in here at all. The mirror nearly took up one entire wall, and peering into the shower, he didn’t know what a vast majority of the buttons or dials did. He supposed he would cross that bridge when he came to it, and distantly wondered if Tony would come with him and show him what to do, and maybe stay.

For now, he fished out a clean rag from the cupboard beneath the sink and dampened it with warm water. Running it over his forehead first to wipe away the light sheen of sweat he had worked up, he dragged it across his belly, cleaning up his come carefully. And still oversensitive, he trembled when he ran it across his entrance, his thighs shaking. Tony’s own come still dribbled down his legs. He cleaned himself up as best he could before drying himself carefully with a towel. It was thick and ridiculously fluffy, and it felt like nothing short of heaven.

He wandered back into the bedroom with the intention of crawling back into bed and demanding more kisses before kicking Tony out before Hill returned to find the bed just as messy as he left it, but empty.

A note had been propped up against a vase of white flowers that Steve faintly recognised as rhododendrons.

_You know who I am,_ it read in a messy scrawl, barely legible. Steve could only laugh at the cheek, only a little stung and he plucked the note off the side and crushed it into a ball in one hand. He threw it aimlessly across the room, uncaring when it landed.

He wandered back into the bathroom, appreciating the cool tiles beneath his bare feet and the ache he had in all the right places. He scrubbed a hand across his cheek and stared into the wide mirror, with his mussed hair and kiss swollen lips. He had bites across the expanse of his chest- when had he gotten those?- and his skin was still flushed.

He kept his brain switched off for a few pleasant hours longer, and pushed thoughts of Howard and Hill and the room he had to clean and sheets he had to change away. It would come back to catch him by surprise later, Steve knew, but until that moment, he was going to enjoy it.

He wondered what kind of price he would pay for a brief night of pleasure as he stood under the powerful spray of the shower, and just how dear it would be.

He didn’t regret it, though. Not yet.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr, directcrstarks.
> 
> Also, you're cool.


End file.
